Morphosis
by Faylinn Night
Summary: Years after Hamato "Splinter" saves some kids from TCRI's clutches, the four survivors are questioning their place in the world. Were they meant to remain in the shadows, far from Oroko Saki's grasp? Or is there a role where their powers can do good? Maybe they were destined for a little of both. And the battle to find out could require their whole high school career. [AU]
1. Prologue

**Full Summary: "**We are the last of the Hamatos, meaning Saki-san will not rest until we are dead. And though I have spent years striving for safety, my children will not stay in the nest forever." Thirteen years after Hamato "Splinter" Yoshii saves ten unfortunate kids from TCRI's clutches, the four survivors are entering adulthood and questioning their place in the world. Were they meant to remain in the shadows, far from Oroko Saki's grasp? Or is there a role where their powers can do good? Maybe they were destined for a little of both. And the battle to find out could require their whole high school career. [AU]  
**Genre:** Family, Humor, Sci-Fi, Angst, Romance  
**Rating:** Teen for some language, crude boy humor, and possible mild sexual insinuations.

**Author's Notes:** I know ANs are often overlooked, but I feel I should explain a few things. This is a side project for me while I work on heavier material. Unlike my _Cause and Effect_ series, this will not have any set release schedule. It isn't completed before-hand. It isn't sent through a BETA. And who knows when it will be updated. I just needed something not-so-stressing to work on, something leisure-like to keep the muse flowing as I attempt to weather the storm that is _Cause and Effect_. :)

The story won't all be in Splinter's POV. The opening is meant to lay out some history and background. So. Enjoy?

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. All OCs belong to me, however. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Prologue**

8月27日

To anyone who will endure an old man's troubles,

Zen'ryaku. My name is Hamato Yoshii and, like many in this world, I carry heavy burdens on my heart…

During early fall of 1968, I was born into the Hamato Clan—a hidden, diligent collection of Ninjutsu masters settled near Mount Tate in the Toyama Prefecture. My father trained me by way of Bushido since the time I could walk, and I grew to admire his fair sense of justice, perseverance, and compassion. It was a force of nature, honestly; a whirlwind that ultimate brought the end of our clan's century-long nemesis: the Foot Clan. But despite this, my father spared one child from the unfortunate battle, who he took under his wing.

Oroko Saki quickly became my brother. We were treated equally, trained side by side, loved. Over the years our games grew into friendly competition. Then, at some point I cannot recall, the competition turned bitter.

Who knows when Saki–san learned the truth of his origin as a Foot member; Lord knows he never let on about it until the end. Weeks before that point, he tried convincing my father to make a deal with an overseas organization called Techno Cosmic Research Institute. He did quite well with his goal—to the point where I was almost convinced a super-soldier program would be beneficial.

Secretly, Father confided in me his doubts over the matter. Our nemesis was defeated, so why would we need more power? Sound reasoning, as usual. We humored Saki-san, though, so we could uncover his true intents. Unfortunately, he sensed as much, and when I conceded to a business trip with him, it was the last time I saw my clan.

He escorted me to TCRI's main operations on the outskirts of New York State. At least, that is what he told me on the boat ride over. While I doubt it was the true base, it certainly was home to some of the most grotesque experiments I had ever witnessed. Workers claimed it was a necessary evil. Saki-san called it a marvel. All I saw was the suffering of children. And I could not stand for it.

My subsequent fight with Saki-san was not surprising. Nor pointless. It confirmed all Father and I had suspected. Saki-san resented my clan for what they did to his clan, as well as their secrecy. He wanted to overthrow all Hamatos, kill those who would not follow him, then convert those who would heed his commands so the Foot Clan can rise again. In order to do that, the heads needed severed: my father and me.

However, Saki-san only half succeeded. Though I was wounded, blinded by a serum in a lab, his theatrics drawled out matters. The moments where I was left paralyzed were crucial in that they forced me to listen to my loved ones die over the live video feed Saki-san set up with his tactical team in Japan. I planned my escape carefully in that time—just as Tang Shen's voice rang out—and ten children escaped along with me. Unfortunately, only four survived the first week.

Leonardo. Raphael. Donatello. Michelangelo. These are the names I gave the survivors, the four who granted me purpose when dark loss drove me near the brink of madness. I became a splinter of my clan that night. Such is what I insisted I be called, Splinter.

Nearly thirteen years have passed since then. Saki-san's Foot Clan is now reining strong, and I am still hiding. Revenge was never my intent, yet I have reared my sons through Ninjutsu in preparation of war. We are the last of the Hamatos, meaning Saki-san will not rest until we are dead. And though I have spent years striving for safety, my children will not stay in the nest forever.

My sons want to go to school, to socialize and learn more than what I can offer. They wish to be 'normal', though their special abilities differentiate them from such. I agreed because they promised exceptional behavior. Any sign of trouble, and they know they will be pulled, relocated.

So how could I fight them? My few ties from gaining a new identity left me with the option of enrollment. Were I to ignore it, my sons would never morph into the men they are destined to be. I only wish watching the process was not so nerve-wracking. And that the threat of Saki-san was not so foreboding.

Sousou. I humbly thank you for listening,

Hamato "Splinter"


	2. Outcasts

**Chapter 01 - ****Outcasts**

Today was Hamato Leonardo's first day at Manhattan Bridges High School. Actually, it was his first day of public school. Ever. So instead of waking up early for his usual meditation then homeschooling, he spent his morning double checking the supplies stuffed into his dark blue backpack. His three brothers had teased him for packing long before last night, but he couldn't help feeling he would miss an important item throughout the week. Somehow.

'_They need to learn the importance of preparedness_,' Leo thought while zipping up the backpack. '_A flashlight could be important, no matter what Raph says. I just wish I could take my Katanas as well…_'

With a sigh, Leo stood in his quaint bedroom to glance at the neatly made bed behind him. Atop its ironed sheets twin Katanas laid side by side and despite the glimmering life in their Ito, they looked lonely, small even. The teen's back felt vulnerable in their absence—like a turtle without a shell. Unfortunately, many red flags would be raised if he brought them to school. Forget the attention it would bring, he'd also prove himself a rule-breaker on the first day.

If there's one thing he didn't want, it was a dirty reputation.

'_I have enough to worry about. Don should be alright, but keeping Raph and Mikey in check will be a battle. How am I supposed to do that without giving myself away?_'

The thought gave rise not only to annoyance, but fear as well. Chest tight, Leonardo glanced down at the gray sweater he wore. Its cuffs were pushed to his elbows, so he could detect the smooth collection of scales creeping down his strong forearms. Their yellow-green color had long-since been associated with a Green Anole, and Leo knew the only way to rid himself of the change was to calm down.

'_Breathe, Leo,_' he thought when faced with the dresser beside him. Gripping its coarse lip with scaly fingers, he stared into the mirror above it, gaze fixed on the green patches spreading over his narrow jaw line. '_Remember what Sensei taught you. You were created this way, but that doesn't mean you're victim to it. I won't have an outbreak at school. I won't…I can't._'

Right?

For a moment, Leo swore his reflection scoffed in disbelief, its defined lips turning into a mocking sneer while its skin grew sickly. Although the illusion lasted a moment, it cemented the doubts Leo kept buried, and he pushed back his dark hair with a single hand in old habit. Only his familiar brown eyes met him, however, their deep-set lids raised with expectation.

'_Keep it together, man. _We_ were the ones who convinced Sensei to enroll us, so we need to prove we can do this…even if few are fully convinced._'

"Oi, Fearless, we're headin' for the bus stop!"

Leonardo stepped back at Raphael's booming voice. A shake of his head placed him beside the backpack on the concrete floor, which he immediately picked up and slung over his shoulders. Its heavy weight rested like an anchor between his shoulder blades, but since it wasn't his Katanas, it felt hollow.

"Don't call me 'Fearless'!" Leo shot back after swinging open his bedroom door. He pulled his sleeves downwards—thankful they were now normal—then stalked down the hallway.

* * *

Hamato Raphael fiddled at the front door of his family's shack. Well, technically, it was considered an apartment near the slums. However, it was also a far-cry from a pent house or even a condo in Mid-Town. No amount of color, second-hand furniture, paintings or weeks of scrubbing dirt could hide the fact that the family of five lived in a concrete box with three stories and poor central air.

Raph heaved a sigh, listening for the thumps of Leonardo's boots down the solid stairs. When they neared, he lifted his head, meeting the eldest's brown eyes with a smirk.

"Yer response time's five seconds slow, Fearless," he noted in a gruff Brooklyn accent.

Leo blanched then glanced around. "Where are Mikey and Don?"

"Oh, they ain't here; I just wanted ta get ya movin'."

"Ugh, we're going to be late." The shaggy-haired teen spoke as if his controlled voice could reach two stories above them, and Raph folded his arms, leaning against the front door.

"Better take that up wit' the younger two, Dude."

"Believe me; I will," Leo said, straight-faced. Then, he twisted on a heel and marched back up the stairs at the cramped foyer's right side. It was a wonder how the lean teenage conquered them so quickly when his over-stuffed backpack weighed him down. Raph shook his head at the ridiculousness, noting movement in his peripheral vision.

"My son, is such a scanty bag fit for school?"

Raphael raised an eyebrow at his parent and master, Splinter. The forty-four-year-old sported his usual maroon kimono—which, despite the needed cane in his right hand, projected a sense of controlled danger as he approached. Raph had always found attractive power in the color; yet when compared to the reds he usually wore, they hardly seemed as impressive as his father's.

He felt somewhat unworthy in the master's presence and raised his simple backpack with a single finger. "How do ya know what's in it?"

"I had weighed it before you picked it up in the kitchen."

"Yeah? Well, I got what I need."

"Lunch?"

"An' a notebook."

"What about a writing tool?"

The teen shrugged. "Figured I'd take one from Leo. Or just make things wit' the paper."

"_Raphael_." Splinter sighed then settled both his hands on his cane when it clacked against the concrete floor. His slanted eyes settled on his son, their sharpness imposing in spite of their clouded nature. "If you four are to attend school, you must treat the opportunity with the up-most respect. This is a serious matter. I…I am ushering you into open society and there are chances that you could—"

"Be discovered; I know," Raph cut in while waving a hand.

The action brought his attention to it—to its warm skin tone and the subtle cracked appearance of his long palm and fingertips. The sections burned slightly under his gaze; but before they could bubble, he inhaled deeply then stuffed his hand into his hoodie's pouch.

"My old foe is present in this city," Splinter continued, softer. "If he knew you were alive…"

"If he's such a threat, why'd ya raise us here?"

"Because I felt a calling."

"Same answer as always. Still don't make any sense."

Splinter chuckled. "I had several chances to leave with you and your brothers. However, when it came to it, I could never take my eyes off my enemy. Though in his territory—this city—I feel safer than if we were in another state or even country."

"Don't feel hunted in the man's backyard, eh?" asked Raph.

"People tend to overlook what is in front of them." The master combed a hand through his salt and pepper locks then brought that same hand down the side of his face. Today, his wrinkles appeared deeper than usual.

"Don't worry, Sensei," Raph started in all seriousness. "I won't let anythin' happen ta my bros. Even if Saki, Shredder, whatever he wants ta call himself, makes a move on 'em, _I'll_ protect 'em."

"I do not doubt that, my son,' said Splinter, raising a hand to place on Raphael's shoulder. They shared a quick smile, yet the tender action was crushed under the loud commotion upstairs.

"That bein' said, I may throw Mikey off the bus," the teen added while glowering.

Splinter only laughed in reply.

* * *

Hamato Donatello sank lower into his seat in the school bus' middle row. What could be more embarrassing than having to chase the bus before your first time riding it? Nothing. He had been the one to squeeze his fingers through the front door's rubber lining so the driver would take them seriously, and not one student let him forget it. Their laughing eyes told the truth, tales of what a dork they saw.

Figures.

He never could outrun the title, could he? Others took one glance at his pale completion and curly hair and assumed by his physic that he couldn't possibly be anything more. Sure, he could run circles around Einstein fanatics, but just because he wasn't as chiseled as his brothers didn't mean he was any less capable. Not that they knew of such powerful strength. And despite exchanging his black glasses for contacts, he fell into the stereotype without a chance to prove otherwise.

At least he wasn't the only one to make a spectacle of himself.

"Damn bus driver," Raphael growled while clenching the pitiful backpack.

Don let his seat partner fume a moment, yet when the bag began to subtly smoke he shook his older brother's shoulder. "Careful with the acid, Raph."

The tan teen snorted at his brother's undertone then crossed his arms.

"At least he stopped," Don added. "Think, if we had been late on our first day—'

"I dun really care about tardiness."

"Oh?" Don's lips pursed then turned into a frown when Raph's amber eyes glanced his way like two bright stars. "First, calm down; your eyes are glowing. Second, you should care. I actually find it rather surprising you placed as high as Leo during the entrance exams."

"That's 'cuz I kind'a cheated."

"You _what_?"

"Not so loud, Dude."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"You—_Raph_!"

"Hey"—Raph rubbed his palm against the facial stubble along his strong jaw—"ya jumped up to the last grade, despite bein' sixteen. An' there was no way in hell I was bein' stuck as a Freshman with Mikey."

"Academically speaking, that's where you _should_ be," Don countered. He glanced over Raph's spiked hair towards the bus' opposite side, where Leo fought to keep Mikey in the window. It did little good.

"Yeah, see? Ain't bein' stuck in a classroom all day wit' _that_. Bad enough I live wit' him."

"And you think you'll do better with Leo in eleventh grade?"

"I'll manage."

"You sure?" Donatello narrowed his eyes—a tense action. "That means you can't start a fight like at home. No matter how flustered you are with him."

"Don't worry," Raphael retorted, gaze set ahead. "I got this."

"If you say so…" Don settled into silence as Raph broke out his MP3 player. He couldn't help smiling at it, though. Despite his title as a dork or geek, his brothers still appreciated all he did; including home-made gifts.

* * *

Seniors called freshmen 'fresh meat'? Seriously? That was a real thing? Hamato Michelangelo could hardly believe it when a couple of jocks made the announcement at the school's front steps. All well; made no difference to him. Currently, he was more focused on how grandiose the entrance of Manhattan Bridges High looked.

"This is the biggest building we've ever been in," Donatello remarked at Mikey's left.

Mikey nodded slowly then glanced at Leonardo on his right. "Think we'll lose each other?"

"We're in three different classes," the shaggy-haired brother replied. He scanned the sea of students that speed-walked around the quartet. "We're bound the split up anyway."

"Right; split up…"

The words marinated in Mikey's stomach, turning it sour as his blue eyes scanned the stone structure he approached. He'd never been split from his brothers before. Maybe for an evening or so, but that somehow felt different than being divided into separate classrooms. It was as if the rooms were other worlds, and he would be alone in his. That is, unless he…

"Are we going to make friends?" the youngest questioned in a high voice. His head whipped from one brother to the next so fast that tidbits of his honey blonde hair bounced in his peripheral vision, his dense dusting of freckles no doubt crinkling when he grinned. "Like, real friends?"

"Maybe," Donny muttered while resituating his purple-striped backpack.

"I'm here for curiosity; not friends," Raph interjected. He received a harsh jab from Leo's elbow.

"Liar," the eldest said with a hollow grin. He then faced Mikey, who walked backwards. "Our priority should be education. Secondary, is social skills."

"So, that's a 'yes'?" asked Mikey cheekily.

"A 'yes' with a warning. You must be careful, Mikey. When you get overexcited, you tend to—"

Leo cut himself off for some reason. The blonde cocked his head under the eldest's stern stare before glancing at his sneakers. They marched up and down so quickly, they could hardly be seen as anything more than an orange blur. The urge was typical for his super speed, so it required a great amount of concentration for Mikey to rein back the energy. When his feet marched regularly, a sheepish smile spread over his face.

"Mikey," Leonardo started, "if you can't control your mutation—"

"I can! I can!" Mikey jumped while mounting the staircase behind him, though he must've jumped a little too high in the noisy bustle of students because Raph pushed him down by the shoulder.

"Then prove it," the amber-eyed teen spat.

"I will!" Mikey countered, blowing a raspberry.

"I know you have it in you, Mikey," said Leo in complete reassurance. His umber gaze drifted from his youngest brother to the other two as they stood yards from the metal detectors they would soon enter. "Remember; here, we're not outcasts. We're regular kids. It's the fresh start we wanted, right?"

Mikey nodded along with his siblings.

"Then that means complete secrecy. Our powers are to remain hidden and we are not, under any circumstances, _Mikey_"—Leo stared fixedly at Michelangelo—"to brag about our ninja status."

"But—"

"Under. No. Circumstance. Got it?"

The blue-eyed teen pouted under Leonardo's imposing glare, yet heaved a sigh that weighted his shoulders. "Got it."

"Good. Now let's get going before we're late."

"If ya say so, oh perfect one," Raph commented.

Leo let him pass; Mikey knew that was to keep a backhand at bay and scoffed lightly.

Leo was worrying about him, the speedster? If anything, Raph and Leo were in more danger of blowing their covers. They tended to lose themselves in their alpha fights. So Mikey couldn't help wondering how long the brothers would attend as 'normal' students.


	3. Day One

**Chapter 02 - ****Day One**

Lunch period arrived without incident—much to Leonardo's relief. Despite how the eldest Hamato dreaded leaving Michelangelo alone, his baby brother had kept as controlled as Donatello in their classes. At least, that's what he claimed during the last break. Now if only he could say the same thing about Raphael…

"Must you sleep through so many lectures?" Leo questioned. His sidelong glance was set on his brother and he withheld a sigh as the duo exited their classroom.

The tan teen shrugged before heading down the crowded hall then slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Maybe if the teachers weren't so dull I wouldn't feel compelled ta close my eyes."

"What's the point of enrolment if you aren't going to make the most of it?" Leo frowned when Raph shrugged again.

"Think they'll serve anything good for lunch? My stomach's killin' me."

"Can't you ever be serious where it matters?"

"Yeah; 'cuz I totally need ta be on guard when a two-hundred pound nerd is goin' on 'n on about John Adams."

"We were talking about Jefferson."

"John. Jeff. Whatever."

Leo scowled, rounding a water fountain while catching his brother's half-lidded gaze. "You told Sensei you'd treat this opportunity with respect."

"Get off my case, Fearless."

"No"—Leonardo picked up his pace so it matched Raphael's—"I won't let you squander this chance. Do you know the trouble our father went through to get us this far? Do you even care?"

"What makes ya think I don't?"

"Actions are telling."

"Whatever. Ya're wrong—as usual. I just don't see how knowin' the life of a bunch 'a dead guys is gunna help us become stronger warriors."

"Is that why you think we're here?" Raph glanced away, so Leo finally released his sigh then slowed his speed. "What did you expect?" he continued.

"I don't know," the hothead answered, stoic.

"School isn't the streets. Or a fight club. We have a chance to train our bodies at home, but here? Here, we're meant to train our minds."

"Guess I was hopin' for a little more."

"Like what?"

Raphael snarled and before Leonardo could press for answers, a metallic clap brought his attention to the lockers that lined the hallway. There, a slender redhead in leather and a tattooed Hispanic crowded a hunched figure on the ground. Leo barely recognized them from class, though their names escaped him. His eyes lingered on the dragon emblem sewed into the duo's jackets before returning to the quivering teen that Amanda shoved.

"Where is it, Harrison?"

Harrison glanced up from the ground, revealing wide black eyes below his shaggy bangs. How strange. If he glared properly, his broad physique and strong features could out-shine Raph's intimidation. Yet he flinched under the scrutiny of people half his size.

"Damn punks," Raphael spat, growling.

"Raph, don't," Leo countered. He placed a hand on the hothead's chest and fought the urge to look back when Harrison stuttered a weak protest.

"It ain't _right_, Leo!"

"Stop." Glancing around to ensure no passing student paid them any mind, the older brother added, "I hate it too. But we can't risk an outburst."

"I can control myself."

"You say that a lot."

"So ya're just gunna—"

"You three are blocking my locker."

'_Wait…I know that voice as well._'

Almost masculine, how could Leo forget the listless hum that he'd mistaken as a guy's not one class ago? The Junior rotated on his sneaker until he saw the young woman responsible for the group's pause: a stern-looking athletic figure whose copper-red hair was twisted into dreadlocks around her patch-work sweater.

"Who's the cave woman?" Raph muttered.

"You slept through that as well?" Leo asked.

Raph returned his older brother's frown with a vacant expression. "Slept through what?"

"Can't ya see we're busy here, Gray?" The first redhead spoke in a sweet tone, pouting as she flipped her straight hair over her shoulder. Leo found the motion pointless and silly; her hair was too short to stay there.

"And I care?" Gray countered. She snorted—a deep sound—then stepped towards Harrison. He didn't cower below her, though. In fact, his mouth twitched into a smile that she overlooked. "Call your dog off, Livino," she said towards the Hispanic bully. "Hall knows this one's mine."

"You know how she can get," Livino replied with a crooked smirk.

"And I am no dog!" When Hall sneered, her gothic make-up offered little flattery, and she stomped her boot before poking Gray in the arm. "Ya can't have them all, ya know. One of these days, the PD's will take a stand."

"But not today. Not on _school_ territory."

Livino chuckled as Hall's words turned to angry gibberish. She spun on her heel, leading the way for her companion to follow down the otherwise empty corridor. Leo noted a grin the Hispanic sent his way, but had no clue as to why. He rubbed a faint scale patch under his shirt collar then brought his attention back on Harrison once Raphael shifted.

"Th—thanks, Melody," Harrison said softly. Again, he smiled, though Gray ignored the sincerity, pushing his large figure aside with her leg so she could open her locker.

"Do you have my homework?" she asked in a flat tone.

Leo shared a look with Raph.

"Y—yes," Harrison replied. "B—but, uh…"

"But what?" Gray slammed her locker shut, having traded one book for another. From what Leo could read on its cover, he noted it was irrelevant to their next scheduled class. Or any high school class, for that matter.

"You're smart," Harrison started. "Really smart. I've been doing your homework for months now, and I just—I, uh"—the frazzled teen shifted through his backpack on the floor, producing several messy papers—"I don't get why you need me."

"I don't have time for every little thing," Gray responded as she snatched the papers away. After a brief glanced over them, she turned.

Only to come face-to-face with the eldest Hamato brothers. Leonardo met her blue gaze, squaring his shoulder in instinct. '_Wait; don't look hostile. We aren't here to make more enemies_.'

"What are ya lookin' at?" Raphael snapped.

Leo almost face-palmed. "Raph, we're in her way."

"We see all that, an' that's all ya can say, Fearless?" The tall teen scoffed at the approaching young woman, and Leo jabbed an elbow into his brother's side—a warning against the yellow glow that ignited his narrowed eyes.

"What did you see?" asked Gray, straight-faced.

"A bully bullyin' other bullies." Raph replied so lowly, his Brooklyn drawl almost butchered his words.

Yet Gray lifted her hooked nose without missing a beat, studying the dark-haired male that she stood eye level with. "You have an obtuse view, Red. Don't fake understanding. And don't get involved, either. I have things handled."

"Handled?" Leo spoke indignantly, so the moment Gray faced him, he had no choice except continue. "Would the principle agree?"

"You have no material worthy of a report. No one was hit, were they?"

"Doesn't make it right."

"_Life_ isn't right," the redhead snarled. Her jaw tensed under Leo's furrowed brows and she cut off his chance for further comments by scoffing. "You think the real world is any different? It's worse. So suck it up, and look the other way like _everyone else_."

Wordless, Gray brushed past the Hamato brothers. Raph attempted to stop her before Leo interfered. The eldest shook his head, despite Raph's glare, then turned towards the lockers. They were now completely vacant, Harrison nowhere in sight.

"If I'm gunna have ta put up wit' that shit for two years," Raphael snarled, "I ain't gunna last."

Leonardo chocked back a reply; he would only agree, even when he knew he shouldn't…

* * *

Raphael stabbed several chicken nuggets with a fork, finding their firmness as nauseating as Michelangelo's babble. He grimaced at the pitiful meal then glanced up from his cafeteria tray to the blonde across the table.

"Dudes, I never knew art class could be so much fun!" Mikey gushed. Thankfully, he sunk back into his bench seat (with help from Fearless) and deflated onto the tabletop dramatically. Good; his spiel was over before Raph knew it began.

"Glad you're enjoying yourself," Leo said with a hand on the youngest's shoulder.

The orange-clad teen sprung to life in a split second, his grin widening. "This has been one of the best days ever. And it isn't even over!"

"Please"—Raph snorted—"all we've done is sit around."

"You haven't made any friends?"

"Like you have?" Raph raised his fork, the nugget still attached, so he could wave it in Mikey's freckled face when he leaned over the table.

Mikey puffed his chest out below his hoodie, capturing the nugget with his lips and chewing while saying, "Weren't you listening? I've met several fun people. Way funner than you, Raphy."

"No one's more fun than me," the second eldest grumbled.

"'Funner' isn't an actual word, Mikey," Donatello interjected.

"Give me a break; I haven't gone to my spelling class yet."

The curly-haired brunette paused from eating his salad, his eyes pained for some reason. "There are no spelling classes in high school."

"Then I'm in trouble."

"Mikey"—Leo's stern tone cut off the blonde's chuckle—"you've remained controlled…right?"

"Of course, of course, of course!" Mikey said in one quick breath. He stole another one of Raph's nuggets, nearly choking on it when he tossed it in his mouth.

Raphael flashed his flailing form a smirk. "See what ya get for scarfin' down food?"

"You aren't one to talk about food scarfing," Don muttered towards his meal. Judging by his dead tone, Raph would assume his brother's eating habits disgusted him. As if; Mikey was the worst of the four.

"You mean you haven't slipped up once?" Leo added. He straightened beside Raphael, whose head fell into his hands as he pushed his food tray aside.

Mikey was quick to capture the plastic piece. "Seriously, Leo," he said while assimilating Raph's meal with his. "I've made good impressions. Like, this guy named Raven helped me find my classroom because he was in World History too. I think you'd like him; he was very OCD and anal about how I organized my desk. Even did the same face twitch thing you do. Yeah, like that!"

Sniggering, the youngest Hamato slung an arm around Leonardo, whose displeased face followed his moves like a grouchy lion. "Then in Earth Science I meet Tabitha and Sven. They were building things out of our materials, and I couldn't resist."

"In oddah words, ya imposed on 'em."

Mikey glared at Raph with unintimidating baby blues.

"So long as you haven't used your powers, I guess it's okay," Leo noted.

"Come on, Raphy Boy here will snap before I do."

"Shut it, Cheese-for-Brains!"

"Ya gotta get new material, Bro."

"Raph."

Raphael snapped his gaze towards his older brother, confused by his cold voice and pressed lips. "What, Fearless?"

"It's day one and you're already letting your temper get the upper hand."

"Am not."

"Your eyes are glowing. _Again_."

"Can't help it." Scoffing, Raph rubbed his eyes, which felt hot against his palms. "I'm still pissed about earlier."

"What happened earlier?"

"Nothing," Leo said over Mikey. The youngest blinked, glancing between his two eldest brothers.

Since Leo kept quiet, Raph risked glancing up. "We came across some bullies, but Fearless made sure we didn't do anythin' about 'em."

"Re—really?" Donny asked, his straight brows raised.

"We aren't the authorities, Raph," Leonardo remarked.

"We still should'a done something."

"You just want an excuse to punch something."

"Why would I need one with ya right beside me?"

"Uh"—Don's timid tone cut through Leo and Raph's glaring contest—"what exactly happened?"

"Two punks in leather jackets were threatenin' some big guy."

"And you didn't make friends with them?"

"Not funny, Mikey," Raph growled towards the brazen blonde. "The big guy didn't defend himself at all."

"Fighting obviously isn't in his nature," Leo added. "My guess is that he's been picked on his whole school career."

"So you just…watched?"

"See? Even Mike's disappointed, Fearless."

"Someone else interfered." The eldest spoke with his pointy chin raised and fists clenched on the crowded table. "It turned out alright."

"Really? That cave woman extorted homework from the guy!"

"In a non-violent manner."

"Are ya serious?"

"Is it really any different than what you're going to make Donny do for you? And don't lie, I know you will."

The hothead swore his head would explode. Leo's controlled expression literally boiled his body. The hand he once held against his head slammed against the table as he stood, though its slap hardly registered in the noisy cafeteria. Fearless had the nerve to shake his head, like Raph were nothing more than a child, and every ounce of frustration collected at his palm then spread outwards.

"So much for Sensei's teachin's about defendin' the weak," he spat.

"Don't twist this around to suit your desires, Raphael," Leo countered.

"Someone was in trouble; we didn't help."

"In the end, we didn't need to."

"An' if somethin' like that happens again?"

"You'll stay out of it." Eyes narrowed, the eldest lowered his voice. "In order to keep a low profile, to keep our promise to Sensei, yo'[ll stay out of it."

"Fuck you!" With a growl, Raph flipped over the nearest food tray. Several strands of melted plastic stuck to him when it collected at the table's center, but he ignored it and whirled until an exit was spotted.

He heard Leonardo grumble "Day one" from behind. Not like it mattered. Raph was certain Fearless would complain about the following days as well. He always had something to complain about.


	4. Forté

**Chapter 03: ****Forte**

Donatello grimaced at his flip phone. He hated looking at it, even if he had fifteen minutes before Third Period started, and had half a mind to turn it off. The first six texts he could ignore in his pocket, but once the vibrating grew constant, he had to remove it from his jeans.

Of course they were all from Mikey. The youngest's art class was about to start, and for some reason, he felt a need to express his excitement through all kinds of emoticons. Half of which were animals.

'_What does a turtle eating cake have to do with anything?_' the brunette thought, eye twitching. '_I swear if he sends one more—_'

Beep!

"We're in class, idiot," Don snarled at the phone.

"Someone giving you issues?"

A teasing voice lured Donny's attention upwards—thankfully, before his super-strength could damage his cell's keypad. He met a pair of green eyes, whose brilliance almost choked him when their owner flashed a smile. It lit up the young woman's face with amusement as she took a seat beside the Hamato.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asked.

"Oh, no, I, just, uh"—Don shook his head—"I'm Donatello."

"Unique name," the redhead noted, taking his offered hand. "Old fashioned, too."

"I am?" His eyes fell on their joined hands. "Is this weird? I'm sorry." The brunette took back his hand with a nervous chuckle, yet the redhead never stopped smiling.

"I'm April, April O'Neil," she added.

"Y—yeah, I remember. You're the teacher's assistant."

"That right. Get special college credit for this."

"College?"

"Yup; I'm a junior at OSCA."

"You mean Oswald's School for Cybernetic Advancement?"

"Surprised, eh?" April raised an eyebrow at the brunette's gawk then laughed. "They only accept a handful of students each year. Had to work my ass off to get in."

"I bet."

"Anyways, you were here a little late yesterday, so I didn't get much of a chance to introduce myself. I make it a personal goal to know the whole class."

Stiffly, Don shrugged. "I was sort'a helping my younger brother find his bearings."

"That's sweet."

"He tends to get…distracted. And only half-reads things."

"ADD?"

"It's not diagnosed, but I'm pretty sure he has a degree of it."

"Well," April leaned against the desk table, "you shouldn't let that go on too long without medication. It can only get worse."

"I'll, uh, keep that in mind. It's up to my father, though."

"Huh?" Eyebrow quirked, the redhead tucked her long bangs behind one ear. "Why wouldn't your father take him to a doctor?"

"Alright, you bunch of ingrates, take your seats."

Saved by the teacher!

Donatello gave an inward sigh of relief as the class shuffled to the seats they had claimed yesterday. April flashed another smile before heading towards the front of the class, and since Don stuck to the back row in apprehension, she had a ways to go. He watched her near Professor Stockman—their AP Computer Science mentor—although another redhead at Stockman's side soon caught his attention.

She resembled April's polar opposite. Instead of a smile, she wore a sneer, and her grungy hair was twirled into dreadlocks that barely met her shoulders. Her pale eyes glossed over the quiet classroom as if she loathed being there, but she remained still, arms cross over her loose sweater.

'_Is this the "cave woman" Raph mentioned yesterday?_'

"Oh, you showed up," April noted dryly.

Stockman sent the paler redhead a strained grin. "Melody Gray is aware this course is necessary to graduate and plans to attend from now on. Isn't that right, Miss Gray?"

Melody snorted in return. Silent, she stalked towards Donatello's row with heavy footsteps.

Had the genius sat in her seat? She glared at him like he had. Then again, she wasn't there the first day to stake claims. Guess she knew as much, since she simply rolled her eyes then turned to an empty seat two desks to his right.

The student at Don's left shifted, his voice deep yet timid. "M—m—morning, Melody."

"Whatever, Lucas," the tan redhead grumbled. Somehow, her dismissive reply did little to dampen her classmate's spirit. He chuckled, which Don found odd.

"What's she mad about?" the brunette whispered.

Lucas smiled then hunched his broad figure further. The desk looked so small with him in it; Don couldn't help fearing it would break when Lucus learned over.

"She usually sits beside me."

"Oh. You friends?"

Lucas shrugged. "She, uh, usually copies my work."

"Like someone else I know," Don said, straight-faced.

"Just warning you now."

"If she does anything, I can always report her."

"Please, do not."

"Why?"

"Trust me." Lucas glanced at Melody then lowered his voice. "It is a bad idea for everyone."

Donny doubted that, yet nodded anyway.

"I am Lucas Harrison, by the way. Known mostly as LH."

"I'm Donatello. U—uh, don't take this the wrong way, but…why are you smiling so much?"

"S—sorry." The large teen sat back to place his hands in his lap. "Y—you do not seem intimidated by my size. That is…rare."

"Honestly," Don flashed a crooked grin, "the thought never entered my mind. I have two older brothers who're half your size and, well, they can frighten me with one look."

"Mister Harrison, Hamato"—Stockman's drawl brought the teen's attention forward—"since you seem so chatty, why not come up here and demonstrate the error is this programming?"

"Uh, s—sure," Donny answered. "Programming's my forté."

Lucas met Don's grin when they walked down the desk aisle. "Is it?"

"Just wait and see."

* * *

They ignored them. Every. Single. One.

The jerks!

What good were brothers if they didn't share in each other's joys? Michelangelo expected Donatello to at least respond with one emoticon. But the genius was just as bad as Leonardo and Raphael!

The honey blonde glared at his phone, yet the results remained the same.

"Mister Hamato?"

Mikey glanced up and stuffed his phone inside his jeans' pocket at a record-breaking speed—literally. "Yes, Miss Mercer?"

"Please, concentrate."

"Oh, you bet I am! Wanna see what I have so far?"

"Huh?" The middle-age woman knitted her eyebrows together, turning away from her desk. "We just started. How could you have—"

"I'm fast," the teen interjected with a smile. "Always have been, always will be. It's sort'a my thing, my forté. Like art. Just ask my brothers. But I kind'a stopped because I was a little unclear on what we're supposed to be doing next."

"I explained in detail what I expected."

"Uh-huh." Mikey stared blankly at the heavy-set teacher. Was that supposed to mean something? He stopped listening after she mentioned gestures, so he couldn't be faulted if he were wrong. Right?

Miss Mercer sighed then straightened her skirt, perhaps from habit. She crossed the well-lit art room to approach his easel and sent him a pointed look behind her glasses after glancing over his charcoal lines. "The subject is supposed to be the statue in the room's center."

"That's boring," countered Mikey with an exaggerated groan. "These are more fun."

"I can't even tell what 'these' are! They're too many pictures and this one—"

Cutting in front of Miss Mercer, Mikey stuck out his tongue, half-lidded eyes set on the offensive middle finger visible at the page's center. "That's my brother Raph's hand. Got practice with this one, see it a lot. I call it 'crude gesture'."

"No"—Misses Mercer glared—"I call it at an 'F' if you continue. Switch to a new page and draw a gesture of the statue. Remember: I want to feel the volume in it."

"I wanna feel the volume in it," Mikey mocked behind the thick woman's back. He scoffed as she returned to her desk, removing the fourteen-by-seventeen sketch pad from the easel's tray to flip it over. He stared at the new page for all of a second before leaning towards his right and invading his neighbor's personal space. "Woah, Dudette. You can concentrate way better than I ever could. You even got the shadow detail!"

Said neighbor—a pale young woman who hid behind her black bangs—did everything in her power to avoid his stare.

Why? Did he smell? The blonde sniffed his pits. Nope. Did he push her without knowing? A quick glance confirmed he remained where he had been since class started.

Hum. Then was he simply too awesome? Nonsense! Maybe she was just deaf.

"Oi!" He jumped before the teen's easel so her charcoal never finished the line she had started. "I said your work is awe-some."

"You're wasting your breath, Cutie," someone else butted in.

Mike glanced across his easel to meet his second neighbor: another brunette with flawless skin and natural makeup. Dressed in designer clothes, she flipped her hair without ever touching it then flashed her piercing blue eyes in the blonde's direction. They were pretty, yes, but a coldness lay behind their steely color—a coldness for the silent teen.

"I'm Mellissa Heart," the beauty added. "That's Nia Anders. Not that her name means much; you probably won't see her for the next few weeks anyway."

"Why?"

Mellissa snorted. Was his honest concern that terrible?

"She's sick, Hun. And rarely talks. You should be careful because you might catch something."

"So teasing sick people is acceptable?" What injustice; the idea alone brought a frown to Mikey's face.

Mellissa rolled her eyes, though, as if he had missed some glaring point. "We go way back. Kindergarten times. Tried making friends once and she would have nothing of it. Thinks she's too good for us lower class kids, just because her mom sells mansions and her dad is a scientist. How's the complexion, by the way, Two-Face? Are you Indian or Chinese today?"

Mellissa's girlish chuckle was followed by a few others, mostly from students flanking Nia's and Michelangelo's easels. He didn't like it one bit. But he didn't want confrontation either.

"Please, let me work…"

Such a small voice—it sounded hollow and strained. Mikey blinked at Nia after she had spoken and hesitated before complying with her plea. He got a good look at her face as he did so; her eyes glanced up at him like she expected some kind of relation. What struck him most about them was that one was light and the other dark, just like the skin around them.

Was it right to call her a human calico? Or did others consider that derogatory? It's the only term to come to his mind as she continued the impressive gesture he had commented on earlier. With a huff, Mellissa did likewise, although the blonde had a gut feeling her sketchbook didn't look nearly as epic.

In fact, he wouldn't even give it chance.

"Eh, don't listen to her," Mikey told Nia in an undertone. "I know sometimes people just don't want to talk. It's not their thing. But they don't mind listening. So, can I tell you some stories? Maybe about comics?"

Nia's head twisted his way slightly, enough to insinuate intrigue. I was all the encouragement Mikey needed to let loose the floodgates of his imagination.


	5. Control

**Chapter 04: ****Control**

Give it a week, Leonardo. Be fair. It was only Tuesday. Just because he couldn't make Michelangelo sit still or unsure Donatello remained mindful of his super-strength didn't mean they'd blow their cover so soon. Besides, he still had one brother he could watch.

Leo glanced towards the classroom's back corner then scowled. Sleeping again? Hadn't Sensei's lecture last night meant anything to Raphael?

"Leonardo-san? Sumimasen."

Leo turned aside, silent.

His dark-haired neighbor scrunched his nose. Or maybe it naturally grew that way, like a rabbit's. "I think the paper has surrendered," he said in a thick Japanese accent.

The teen looked at his hands. They shook and strangled a brochure some underclassman had handed over before class.

"Is this your first time?" his neighbor whispered.

"Pardon?"

"Public schooling." The Asian shifted so he leaned on an elbow. "My Freshman year, a group of home school students enrolled. They would wring things too. But the tests aren't so hard."

"Tests don't bother me," Leo whispered back.

"Something must. Crowds?"

"No."

"The smell?"

"What? No."

"The clock then? One girl from that group I mentioned would literally run from class because she couldn't stand the ticking."

"But the clock is digital."

"That was the sad part."

"Look, everything's fine." With a sigh, Leo glanced over his shoulder. Yup, still sleeping.

"Ah." His neighbor nodded. "Brother?"

"That obvious?"

The Asian sniggered, but fell silent when the English teacher turned. A moment passed before the teacher returned to his lesson.

"You cannot control him, Leonardo-san. But you can control yourself."

"I am controlled."

"No. Your tension runs deep—deeper than a brother falling asleep in class."

Leo glared. How could his classmate know that?

"I had read a similar Chi with one of those homeschoolers," the Asian said.

"Just who are you?" whispered Leo.

"Miyamoto, Yōjinbō."

"Yōjinbō? As in a 'bouncer'?"

The Asian smiled, his flat nose pulling upwards. "Parents, eh? Call me Usagi though. Usagi-san. I'm still unnerved by America's blatant informality."

"Usagi-san?"

Usagi tapped his nose. Guess Leo hadn't been to first to compare the Asian to a rabbit.

"Alright, Usagi-san," Leo started, "care to explain how you sense others' Chi?"

"Later," Usagi answered. "We can't get away with talking forever."

"But—"

"If you're as controlled as you claim, you'll manage."

Leonardo's lips pursed at Usagi's sly smile.

"Relax, Leonard-san. I mean no harm."

'_He's right._ _Get a grip, Leo, or else you'll be the one to blow your cover._'

And Raph would never let him live that down.

Leonardo eased his grip, taking a deep breath. He looked at his hands as Usagi sat back in his seat. Although the brochure was crinkled, he scanned the extracurricular activities. One in particular stood out.

_Martial Arts. 3:15 pm to 4:30 pm. Health Credit Certified. Gi not included. Contact Neo Anders for further information._

Leo stuffed the paper in his pocket. He knew he shouldn't give in. His shape-shifting was hard to control in a fight. Still...it couldn't hurt to take a peek. He was, after all, more controlled than his brothers.

* * *

Raphael stormed the school hallway. So what if he was heading away from his next class? He'd rather be late than suffer anymore nagging from Leonardo.

Why don't you apply yourself? Why can't you stay awake for a few hours? Don't you care what Sensei said?

Raph rolled his eyes. '_He acts all high 'n mighty. Control yourself, Raphael. Spare me. He isn't any better. He's gotten inta fights too._'

Maybe not as many as Raph. That was beside the point, though.

'_I can't do what he does. I can't compartmentalize. If someone's bein' hurt, I—'_

"Shit!" Raph cried. He back-stepped, rubbing his chest where something hard had jabbed him. "What? The hall ain't big enough?" he asked.

On the floor, a brunette scrambled for the things she had dropped. Her head ducked, her short hair unkempt, and when she leaned over to pick up a sketchbook, Raph wondered how her huge ass fit inside her jean shorts.

"Sorry," she said. Between the student traffic and her winded breathing, it was hard to tell she spoke at all.

"Whatever. Just—" Raph knelt to help gather a few stray papers. He glossed them over then paused. The drawings were good. Like, hyper-realistic good. "Wait a minute." He stared closer at a boy sticking out his tongue. "I know this idiot. Oi!"

The brunette jumped, dropping her books again.

"Ya know Mikey?" he asked.

The brunette jerked her head up and down in short motions.

"Where from?"

The brunette looked up. How she could see through her shaggy bangs was a mystery, but she snatched the papers from Raphael with ease.

"Hey, I asked where from," Raph said.

"Art," she answered. "Now may I—I please go?"

"Geez, I'm just makin' conversation. Ya're da one who ran inta me wit' yer…what is that?"

"An easel. I—I'm sorry. I'll step aside next time."

"Yeah, sure, just…" Raph trailed off as the brunette rounded him. She walked as defeated as she sounded, like zombie.

'_Maybe her bro tells her what she can't do too,_' the tan teen thought.

Speaking of…

'_I should skip fourth period. History puts me to sleep worse than English._'

Where to play Hooky though? Raph hummed, continuing down the hall. It was no longer filled with suckers who obeyed their schedules—save for two rebels.

"LH, the papers," one said.

"I have them, Mel, but you should know—"

"Melody Gray," Raphael interjected. His arms crossed as Gray's over-sized lips pursed.

"Shouldn't you be in History?" she asked.

"Shouldn't ya?"

"You both should actually," the largest teen said. "I have Math however."

Raph faced him. "Lucas, was it?"

"Lucas Harrison, yeah. But call me LH. Too many, uh, bad cases of being called Lu. Or…Lulu."

"I stopped those names," Gray said.

"Like ya stopped Amanda Hall?"

The redhead lifted her strong chin. "That's my business. Now care to get out of the way, Hamato?"

"It's a big hall," Raph retorted. He planted his sneakers.

Gray steeled at the challenge. Her eyes flashed and for a long moment, she mirrored the tan teen. But when his smirk returned, she did nothing more than toy with her wild dreadlocks.

"You're petty," she said. "In my world, that attitude will get you killed."

"Yer world?" Raph echoed. What bullshit.

Gray snorted. "People with the smallest minds often have the biggest mouths."

"That a quote?"

"It's truth. So get your big mouth away from me. I'd rather deal with your seat-stealing brother. Least he's quiet."

"Which one? Don? Leo 'n Mike sure ain't quiet."

"Don?" LH asked. He stood straight, looming over two heads taller than Raph. "As in Donatello Hamato? He's your bother?"

Raph craned his neck backwards to meet LH's smile. "Yeah. Why? What's he said about me?"

"Nothing that hasn't already been proven," Gray said.

Raphael faced her with narrowed eyes. He felt heat spread through his palms and clenched them to keep their acid contained.

"Let's not get out of hand," LH said with a forced laugh. "Melody," his voice lowered, "you just got back into school. Every suspension cuts your college selection and you don't have many options left."

"How do you know that?" Gray hissed.

"Uh, rumors? Never mind. Just…consider the others."

"I never should've taken you there."

"But then I—I never would've agreed to our deal."

Gray and LH shared a look and Raph spread his arms, asking,

"I'm missin' somethin', ain't I?"

Gray sent a dead stare. "I'm not answering that."

"Good idea," a new voice added. "Ya've talked enough."

Was that a Brooklyn accent? Raph turned with a raised eyebrow. A man approached, dressed in casual slacks and a button-up shirt that looked misplaced on his buff form.

"Ya a hall monitor?" Raph asked. "Ya look like a mook."

"An' ya look like a punk," the man countered.

"Mister Jones," Gray started, "we were just heading for class."

"Nearly fifteen minutes late. Also, don't call me Jones."

"Casey. We're leaving."

"An' I would _love_ ta let ya go. Really."

Gray's shoulders slumped. "But we—"

Casey shrugged like the action pained him. "I physically can't, Melody. We've got cameras this year. If I let ya slide, it's on my head. I already stuck my neck out ta ya reenrolled, an' if I lose this job, my Mama will skin me."

Raph smirked. "Ya still live wit' yer mom?"

"Somethin' wrong wit' mamas, punk?"

Slowly, Raph's humor died. "I…wouldn't know."

"Then don't talk about my mama." Casey jotted something in a leather-back book with a frown. "I feel like I'm givin' these away for a sweepstakes."

"Givin' what away?" Raphael was answered with a yellow ticket.

"Detention," said Casey. He handed similar papers to Gray and LH, although theirs didn't sizzle. "Come on, guys. Don't give me those faces. I'm on yer side."

"Looks it," Raph grumbled.

"I can only control so much." Sighing, the man ran a hand through his greasy hair. "When I got fists fights, punks loiterin', an' girls stealin' class pets, I have no choice."

"Who steals a class pet?" questioned LH.

"Nia Anders," Casey answered. "She didn't say why. If ya're curious, ask her. After school. Now get ta class."

"Well," Raph started, "we already got detention, so…why bother?"

Casey smirked. "'Cuz it means the difference between one day's detention an' a week's detention."

"Thought ya said ya were on our side."

"I am. Any oddah jerk wouldn't 'a givin' ya a choice."

Che. Fine. Raph waved the paper in Casey's smug face and squeezed it to mask the fact that his acid ate at it. He had enough sense not to toss it and so he stuffed it in his jacket pocket before turning his back on the trio.

"Guess I'll be seein' ya later," he said.

And, no, he wasn't looking forward to it.

* * *

**A/N:** Please understand: "Morphosis" isn't my main project. I know it's been a while, and I thank all of you for supporting this world thus far. Honest. I've just been in a slump and want to focus on "The Distance". More chapters are still planned, however. Happy reading! C:


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